Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy Read online

  Chapter Four

  The Red Cross arrived two days later with tents and donated items, most of which were used for those families who’d lived in the mobile-home park that had been virtually destroyed. Water bottles and ice and various other food supplies began coming in on trucks, so that people’s immediate needs were met. Gator and the town’s other officials had combed the area, sifting through debris, while Michelle had divided her time between the clinic and shelters. Gator had also checked on Reba’s cats, putting out bags of food and fresh water and performing what he called the “god-awful task” of changing their kitty litter. Although the water had gone down somewhat, he cautioned Reba about returning too soon.

  When Michelle was finally able to get through on a landline phone to the hospital, she found her co-workers frantic, but more than understanding that she could not return right away, especially when her car was still buried under a tree. The hospital was understaffed since they’d sent medical personnel to New Orleans, and when Michelle spoke with Jeffrey, she learned he’d been pulling double shifts right along with everyone else. He sounded exhausted and a bit irritated that she hadn’t called sooner.

  “We’ve tried to find out about you several times, Michelle,” he said. “All they told us was there had been no casualties. Nobody knew if you were injured, and you didn’t tell any of us your grandmother’s name.”

  “I’m sorry, Jeffrey,” she said, feeling guilty for making everyone worry so. Heaven knew Jeffrey had enough to deal with at the moment, what with a new wife who was pregnant. “The cell phone tower was down and what little bandwidth there was made personal calls a luxury this town couldn’t afford. And in the beginning I was more concerned with taking care of the emergencies. This landline phone has only been working since this morning, and the whole town is using it.” She paused. “You sound dead on your feet.”

  “I am. I’ve been sleeping at the hospital every night, and you know what that’s like. But it beats the heck out of going home. It’s not working out, Michelle. I made a mistake. I don’t know how long I can take it.”

  She was genuinely sorry for him. The man had tried to do the right thing by marrying the woman, and she knew he was paying emotionally. “Just hang in there, Jeffrey,” she said. “I’ll be home in a couple of days and we’ll talk.”

  “What kind of life is this, Michelle?” he said, sounding on the verge of tears. “All I do is work. My patients don’t appreciate me—they want more. They’re takers, Michelle. And then I have to go home to a wife who does not like me and is sick all the time. There’s no payoff, no joy in my existence. I can’t take much more.”

  Michelle was growing irritated with his whining. “Don’t talk like that, Jeffrey,” she said firmly, wondering when he’d first started acting like a cry baby. He was a grown man—a doctor, for heaven’s sake! Perhaps his work in the emergency room was taking its toll. “You’re stronger than you think. This has been a bad time for you, but you’ll get through it.” She glanced over her shoulder to where a group of people had congregated at the door, each of them anxious to use the landline telephone. “Look, Jeffrey, I have to get off. People are waiting to use the phone.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  “As soon as I can. I promise. Good-bye, Jeffrey.” She hung up the telephone, shaking her head, wondering if life would ever return to normal.

  “Everything okay?” Gator asked, noting the worried expression on her face.

  Michelle didn’t speak until she was out of hearing distance from the others. “I need to go home, Gator,” she said as soon as he’d joined her.

  “Let the guy work out his own problems, Mic.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I understand a man has to take responsibility for his own actions. Stand on his own two feet. You’re not his mother.”

  She didn’t appreciate him sticking his nose in her business. “I happen to be his friend.”

  “His problems are between him and his wife. Besides, he had his chance with you and blew it.”

  Her anger flared. “You have no right to pry into my personal life, and you certainly have no right to pass judgment on a man like Jeffrey. What do you know about honor and obligation? You can’t wait to dump your own responsibilities into somebody else’s lap and go on with your life. Jeffrey doesn’t have that freedom.”

  “So are you thinking maybe the woman tricked him?”

  Michelle blinked several times. “I never said that.”

  “Maybe not in so many words, but you keep putting him in the victim’s role.”

  “Let’s just drop it, okay,” she said, feeling a bit emotional over the whole thing. Gator had a way of making it all sound even worse, cheap and tawdry were two words that came to mind. She wondered why Gator was getting involved in the first place. She had come to terms with the broken relationship with Jeffrey a long time ago; in fact, there were times she wondered what she had even seen in Jeffrey. But Gator had no right to rub her nose in her mistakes.

  “I’m not going to discuss this with you,” she said, holding her hand up to halt the conversation. “But I really need to get back home. If you won’t help me find someone to get that tree off my car, I’ll do it myself. “

  Gator realized now that he’d been too rough on her. Once again he’d let his emotions get the best of him. He wanted to apologize for hurting her feelings, kiss away the pain, but it wasn’t the place. “The heavy equipment is needed elsewhere at the moment, Mic, you know that. And what are you going to do about your grandmother? Somebody has to help her get her place in order. She’s too old to do it alone.”

  Michelle buried her face in her hands. She was so tired. She was tired of living on stale hot dogs and black coffee. She was tired of wearing the same clothes and of washing her bra and panties out every night in the bathroom sink. But she knew he spoke the truth; somebody had to help Reba. With her parents out of the country till the end of the month, she was the only one Reba had to rely on. But that was the story of her life. Her parents had never been around, not for her or anyone else.

  Michelle dropped her hands to her side. “Can you take me out to Reba’s place tomorrow?” she asked. “I’d like to get started right away.”

  “Okay, Mic. Lord knows, I wouldn’t want you to hang around any longer than necessary.” He gave a grunt of disgust and turned around to arrange his bedding. Jealousy, he decided, was truly the monster it was reported to be. He hoped for his sake this was his first and last brush with it.

  #

  Reba’s place was a disaster. Gator and Michelle arrived early the next morning in his boat. Although Reba’s house could be reached by car, the distance was much longer that way, and many of the back roads were still impossible to navigate without a chainsaw and bulldozer. Reba had lost two outbuildings, and the screens on her back porch flapped in the breeze like laundry on a clothesline. A number of windows had been shattered, and tree limbs and various other debris littered the yard, giving it a shabby, unkempt appearance that was alien to Reba’s way of life. Her boat dock and part of the backyard were still covered with water. For the most part, the water had subsided, but mud and debris was everywhere.

  The inside of the house wasn’t much better, and Michelle was thankful that Gator had convinced Reba to stay at his mother’s house for a couple of days. The woman had not seemed to mind Reba’s pets, and Michelle thought it was high time Reba reacquainted herself with old friends instead of keeping to herself as she had since the death of her husband.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Michelle said, taking in her surroundings. The large braided rug in the living room was soggy, as were the numerous throw rugs scattered across the plank floors. She faced Gator. “You don’t need to be here,” she said. “I appreciate it, but I know you have more important things to do in town.” She didn’t know how she would manage without his help, but she felt guilty for taking up so much of his time already.

  “Don’t worry about
it, Mic. I’ve deputized half the town. They can spare me for a day or two.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she finally asked. Gator didn’t seem the type to go out of his way for another human being unless he was motivated by guilt or obligation. He owed her nothing. Although he’d worked nonstop the past few days since the storm had hit, she knew that he really didn’t want to be there, he was merely biding his time.

  Gator shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. The people in this town looked after my mother when I moved away. I’d come back to check on her from time to time and find someone had chopped wood or weeded her garden and flower beds for her. I reckon it wouldn’t kill me to return the favor. “He pressed the toe of his boot against the large rug, and water streamed across the floor. “First thing we need to do is get this rug out of here so the floor can dry.”

  Michelle sensed he was eager to get started and didn’t want to waste time arguing. For the next half hour, they concentrated on getting the rug outside, where they draped it across several old sawhorses to dry. Michelle wasn’t sure the rug could be saved, but knowing that Reba never threw anything away, she was hesitant to do so herself.

  Although it was still early, the day was hot and muggy. Gator, already drenched with perspiration, had shrugged out of his shirt and tied an old blue bandanna around his forehead. A fine sheen of sweat covered his back, shoulders, and chest, and tiny sweat beads glistened across his forehead and upper lip. That, combined with his unshaven face, convinced Michelle that he’d never looked more rakish or devilishly sexy.

  A shave and shower these days would have been sheer luxury, she knew. Although Gator had conveniently disappeared each night during the bath rituals to give Reba and Michelle privacy, there was still something very intimate about sharing the same bar of soap, the same tube of toothpaste, the same sink. Gator often waited until the women were in bed before he began his own ablutions, and Michelle had raptly listened to the sounds he made—the water splashing against the metal sink, Gator humming under his breath as he washed. In her mind she saw him standing naked before the sink, the kerosene lamp painting shadows on his large, hair-roughened body.

  Michelle forced her thoughts to the present as she followed Gator inside the house once more. They threw open the windows—those that hadn’t been broken during the storm—to aid in drying out the place. Michelle began the enormous task of mopping while Gator measured the windows and cut plastic from a large roll he’d purchased from the hardware store that morning. He’d brought a staple gun to make the job easier, courtesy of FEMA. Michelle had only finished mopping half the living room floor when Gator called for help.

  “I need you to hold these plastic sheets up while I staple them in place,” he said, rolling the sheets up so they would be easier to handle. “Why don’t we start upstairs so the bottom floors have longer to dry?” Michelle nodded and followed.

  Gator had Michelle hold the plastic against the window while he stapled it to the frame securely. Michelle decided it was the most unnerving moment in her life having to stand there, stretched to her full height as she held the plastic in place, while he stood directly behind her and tacked it in. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, sending delightful tingles down her spine. When his big chest brushed her shoulder blades accidentally, she sucked in her breath and tried to make herself smaller. She suddenly felt vulnerable dressed in shorts that were a tad tight and a cotton blouse that exposed her midriff every time she raised her arms. They’d seemed practical enough when she’d chosen them at the shelter; with clothing so scarce, she’d been lucky to find something close to her size. She decided after a moment that clothing had nothing to do with the way she felt. Gator Landry could make a woman in a nun’s habit feel naked.

  When Gator finally finished nailing the plastic in place, he dropped his arms to his side and backed away from the window. Michelle, who’d been literally holding her breath, exhaled with such force that it almost made her dizzy. She grasped the windowsill for support.

  “You okay?” Gator asked, arching one brow quizzically.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “How come your face is so red?”

  She fumbled for a reply. “It’s the … heat.”

  “I hope you’re not pregnant too.”

  Michelle faced him. “Of course I’m not pregnant. What on earth would make you say such a thing?”

  He shrugged. “I just thought it would be kind of funny if your good doctor knocked up his wife and mistress at the same time.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I’m not his mistress.”

  “Call it what you like, Mic, but it all adds up to the same thing.”

  This time it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from flying into a rage. “I am not sleeping with him!” she shouted. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. I’m not sleeping with anyone! You got that, Sheriff Landry or do you have more personal and insulting remarks you’d like to toss my way?”

  He really could be a jerk, he told himself. He tried to smooth it over with a bit of humor. “So that explains the bitchy behavior and those lines on your forehead, Miss Thurston. You obviously need some male attention, and it just so happens I can fit you into my schedule at the moment.”

  Michelle crossed her arms and shot him a dark look. “There you go again,” she said. “Just when I’m beginning to think your morals have crept a bit higher than a snake’s belly, you do your darnedest to prove me wrong.”

  He looked amused. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.’’

  “You could never do that, Sheriff, because my opinion of you was fairly low to begin with.”

  Gator stepped closer. “I seem to remember a time when it wasn’t so low, Mic.”

  “I was sixteen and dumb. I was also bored and had nothing better to do.”

  He smiled, remembering that night so many years ago. “I remember you lying in my arms on the sweet smelling grass with the night breeze playing in your hair.”

  “We were on your mother’s quilt.”

  “Beneath a giant live oak.”

  “It was a magnolia tree.”

  The smile changed to a grin. “For somebody who was bored out of her mind, you certainty remember it well.”

  Michelle blushed. “I have an excellent memory. I never forget a thing.”

  “Remember what you whispered in my ear that night?”

  She glanced away and swallowed. “No.”

  He tilted his head forward so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “You said I made you feel things you’d never felt before.”

  “Gator Landry, you’re a liar! I never said such a thing.”

  He nodded slowly. “Oh, yes you did.” He crooked a finger beneath her chin and raised her face. “We were both so hot that night, I thought we’d catch fire.”

  His voice was low but smooth, a liquid purr to her ears that made her mouth go dry and the back of her throat itch. Michelle could only gaze into the black eyes that held her so totally captivated. “I keep reminding you that was a long time ago,” she finally said. “I don’t think I actually realized what I was getting into until you pulled me down on that quilt. But now I’d just as soon forget it, if you don’t mind.”

  He cocked his head to the side as though pondering her request. “I don’t think we can forget it, Mic,” he said honestly. How was he supposed to forget the way she’d felt that night when she insisted on cavorting around in those too-short shorts? And where had she found that blouse, for Pete’s sake? Every time she took a breath the hem shimmied up her rib cage and he caught sight of peach-colored flesh. He’d almost lost it when he’d spied that kissable navel riding her waistband. He dropped his finger from her chin and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever stop wondering what it would be like between us now, if only we could stop playing games with each other and face our feelings. If we were that volatile as teenagers, what do you think we’d be like as adults?”

  Michel
le backed away, wanting to escape the feel of his hand on her. But even as she broke physical contact with him, the impact of his touch lingered. His words had painted a picture in her mind that was much too dangerous to even contemplate. What he was suggesting was crude and indecent, as far as she was concerned. What about love or caring or all the other things that made up a relationship? She almost laughed out loud at the thought. Gator Landry had made it plain from the beginning that he didn’t desire a relationship. He was merely looking for a bed partner to entertain him until he could move on. Well, he could look elsewhere, she told herself.

  “Are the women in Temptation getting so scarce that you have to harass every woman who comes into town?” she asked.

  “Not at all.”

  Michelle gritted her teeth at the smug look on his face. The man certainly had a high opinion of himself. “Then why don’t you find somebody who’s a bit more susceptible to your charms, instead of forcing yourself on someone who isn’t?”

  He grinned. “I like you, Mic. You’ve got style. I’ve always been partial to classy women. Just as long as they don’t carry it too far into the bedroom.”

  Gator turned and reached for another sheet of plastic. He was purposely goading her, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He enjoyed watching her get so flustered she couldn’t think straight. She was fumbling for a comeback even now, and it delighted him that she was having trouble forming a reply. He was aware that his playful banter irritated the hell out of her, but he couldn’t help himself. Part of it, he knew, was to get back at her, because she wanted to return home so badly. Although she claimed it was her job she was concerned about, he wondered just how much of it actually had to do with the man who’d once been her lover. It irked him that she had fallen for a doctor. But he could see her playing the demure doctor’s wife, attending charity functions, raising yellow-haired kids with braces on their teeth. He gritted his own teeth at the thought.